


Bernie Girls

by whitachi



Category: Firefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 15:02:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitachi/pseuds/whitachi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon must deal with the force of a drunken, singing Jayne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bernie Girls

"Of all the girls in all the worlds, be they core or border...." Jayne bellowed the words of the song with such volume that they echoed in the small corridors of the ship. "It's the girls on Bernadette, who'll put you right in order..." Simon decided that if, perhaps, the Londinum Men's Choir were holding auditions for a special section of drunken balladeers, he would be certain to put in an immediate recommendation for Jayne as a baritone soloist. However, since he knew of plans for no such section, he rather preferred silence before the man disrupted his sister's rest and further disrupted his own study. 

"Ohhh, those Bernadette girls, they're the best, be they the fattest or the thinner..." There came a loud crash that could only be blamed on a human hip meeting with an exposed bit of utility pipe, and a momentary pause in song for a few sharp swears in Chinese. Simon put the marker into his book and stood; he knew he would probably not make it safely to his quarters before coming in contact with the staggering, singing colossus, but it was, if nothing else, worth a try. This experience would, at least, teach him that the general landside absence of the crew was no reason to think of the ship as empty and take advantage of the superior lighting of the infirmary. "No matter the size or shape, with a Bernie girl, you're always the... the..." And of _course_ Jayne was there at the end of the corridor just beyond the ladder access to his quarters. 

" _Winner_." It was the obvious rhyme (failing the more morally judgmental "sinner", which, judging the general tone of female-praising drinking songs, would not be the preferred choice) and Simon supplied it as he put his hand on the ladder to climb down to his escape. A large and vaguely dirty hand fell onto the bar of the ladder, momentarily preventing his retreat, and Simon felt momentarily impressed with how quickly such a large and obviously intoxicated man could cover a significant amount of distance. He would have to keep it in mind for a time that they were in some dangerous situation together, but as it was for the moment, it was yet another annoyance. 

" _Winner_ , that's right, doc, you know the song?" Jayne stunk of whatever fermented bit of grain that the locals on this moon had decided to saddle with the name of "whiskey", and Simon wondered if his eyebrows would curl from another whiff of it. Jayne's other hand slapped against the bulkhead on the other side of Simon, closing him in as his face screwed up in a grin until his eyes disappeared into slits. "Hell of a good song, ain't it, doc? You wanna sing it with me?" 

Simon slipped his hand to the rung just below where Jayne's hand gripped and pulled back until his head thudded into the bulkhead. "No, I'm afraid I don't know it." He snuck one foot onto a low rung. "You seem to be cutting your evening short. Are the others due back soon, as well?" 

"You're always the winner..." Jayne laughed as he finished the verse and dropped his hand to fall against Simon's; his grip was hard and his palm was damp with sweat. "Naw, we're not close to done yet. Got to enjoy the fruits of our hard labors, don't you know it, doc? Shame you didn't decide to come on down and con _sort_ with commoners, you know, since we're havin' a mean old time." One of Jayne's eyes cracked open as his lip curled up in something between a smile and a sneer. "Lots of good drink, good food, pretty, pretty... pretty lots of things, think I even saw a _cantaloupe_ , if'n you know what I mean, _doctor_..." 

Simon did _not_ know what he meant, not in the least, and whether he was speaking of melon or euphemism, a removal of himself from this conversation was in due order. "It sounds wonderful," he grimaced, turning his head away from the alcohol smell that made his eyes water. "I suppose you should be returning there soon, then?" 

"Oh, yeah, yeah, be back in two shakes, just came back to get... to get... uh..." And then Jayne's head fell forward to meet with the wall with a lovely "thud" noise, and he directed a sodden laugh into Simon's shoulder. "Hell, what was it I was comin' to get, now?" 

"I couldn't..." Simon drew his head further back before he came in direct contact with skin that hadn't borne a wash since... actually, this close, he could scent the ship's harsh soap just beneath perhaps a day's worth of work-sweat, sharp and clean. But, nevertheless, it made Simon's eyes water, and he turned his head to catch a quick breath of the warm, stale air of the ship. "I couldn't possibly tell you what you were looking for, Jayne," he murmured, and shifted back into the well of the ladder. "If you'll excuse me, now, I have to check on River..." 

"You know, I'll tell you something, doc..." Jayne's hand tightened over Simon's and he staggered just a few inches forward, halting any hope of retreat as he snorted a nose full of Osiris linen. He straightened his head up with a sharp jerk and put himself nose to cheek with Simon. "I used to think you were some kind of _liar_ about that sister of yours." 

That stopped Simon cold (although, more truthfully, it was the knuckle-whitening grip Jayne held on his hand that kept him in place more than anything, but Simon enjoyed the occasional illusion). "Oh?" he said, turning his head back to face Jayne, lifting his chin up and nose high, ending up somewhere in the vicinity of Jayne's left ear. "And why is that?" 

"Didn't think you two looked a gorram thing alike, that's why." He pulled back other inch, and Simon watched the contraction of his pupils at the change of light. The reaction was sluggish, a slow shrinking instead of the rapid dilation it should have been. "Don't know what she got in that head of hers, but the outside ain't too shabby, you know what I mean, huh?" Simon's eyes darted from Jayne's unfocused stare to the curl of his lip, and the revealed teeth that seemed just too sharp at the moment. 

"No, I'm afraid I don't, now if you'll..." Simon tugged his hand to pull free of Jayne's grip and was rewarded with an even tighter hold from the large, sweating hand. Jayne staggered a step forward as his lips spread out in a full grin, baring a full row of healthy teeth. 

"But I got me a closer look and I see you two got the same eyes." It was a fear reaction, a bit of adrenaline that had him holding his breath now, Simon was certain. Jayne's heat was radiating from him (wasn't there some sort of increase in metabolic response triggered by alcohol consumption? That could make him feel so warm--but no, that didn't seem right...) and surrounding to suffocate Simon. "Same big ol' pretty eyes, you and your little sis..." 

Jayne's hand lifted from the wall beside him and fell against his cheek with a dull slap; it wasn't an attack, but some crude attempt at tenderness. The considerable meat of his palm pressed up into his chin, pressing his lips up to wrinkle beneath his nose. _Here_ was the smell that had been missing earlier, skin thick with dirt and liquor, some coppery tang of blood and a musty smell of god knows what else; Simon wrinkled his nose, and it made his mouth water. 

His book clattered down the rungs of the ladder, taking a few interesting spins off the walls before landing in the hall below with a thump. Jayne's breath was thick in his face as his eyes went half-opened. "Yeah, I can see it," he mumbled, and at some point he had gotten close enough so that Simon could feel the vibration of his words move past his lips and infect his skin. His sticky palm slid away from Simon's cheek, a crinkle of hair and friction loud in his ear as it moved back to the wall. 

"Jayne, you... you are..." Certainly Simon had some intelligent way to complete the sentence; he always managed to find one. At least, almost always. Usually. Well, in any case, it would be an easier prospect if the hand that had dropped the book were not sending some ticklish, numb sensation up his arm (pinched nerve, perhaps; wrong arm for a heart attack), and were he not suddenly focused on how easy it would be to lift that hand and hold it out, cutting through the miles of inches to touch Jayne. 

He curled his fingers in once, then stretched them out, just enough to feel the fabric of Jayne's shirt. Jayne's hand fell away from where it held his on the ladder, and then the rest of him fell from the generally vertical position he had been occupying to a far more horizontal one on the ship's floor. After a few seconds, a loud, gargling snore came forth from him. After a few more seconds, Simon did touch him, knocking him onto his side so that if the great, drunken ape decided to decorate the ship with the contents of his stomach, it would, at least, not be a fatal design decision. 

Down the ladder, he retrieved his book and straightened out the page that had become creased in the fall. He tucked it underneath his arm and went to the door of his sister's quarters, opening it with a soft murmur of her name. River was awake, lying on her side on her bed with one arm cast limply over her stomach. 

She looked up at him with eyes that were for a moment sharp. "Bernadette has one of the highest rates of sexually transmitted infections in all Allied worlds, and is the highest among the core planets, leading to problematic outbreaks among emigrants," she said, half murmured into her pillow. 

Simon moved to her and knelt at her side, putting a hand against her hair. "Yes," he said, and sighed. "I know." 


End file.
